For as long as she can possibly remember, Michael Brentwood (Scott Foley) has always been Amy's lifeline, the only person she can count on to heal her pain, not only emotionally but more importantly, physically. He's unbelievably kind, compassionate...
Amy stared sadly out of the passenger's side window of Andrew's car, her heart aching, hot angry tears forming behind her eyes, tears that she refused to let fall. No way in hell was she about to cry over something so stupid as a petty fight with Andrew. She didn't even know why she was on the verge of crying about it in the first place. Maybe she was just being stupid, maybe her anxiety was making her stress over stupid shit, the kind she wouldn't normally be stressing about. Or maybe the real reason she wanted to cry, was because she was genuinely worried that she and Andrew might be drifting apart, before they even had a chance to get to know each other better.
She blamed herself more than she did him. Maybe he was right, maybe she did need to loosen up a little and stop being so damn uptight. She took things way too personally and her friends often times chastised her for not being able to take a joke, which put her on the defense whenever someone poked fun at her. Why was that? What had happened to her in the past to make her that way? Did this make her a bad person? Was it even remotely possible for her to change?
Both she and Andrew had spent the first fifteen minutes of the car ride in silence, an awkward silence that seemed to stretch on forever. Fortunately for her, he was attempting to flush out the tension in the vehicle with music, the sound of the Red Hot Chili Peppers, "Californication," currently filling the car. Thankfully, it seemed to be working, at least for her. If anything, it helped ease some of the anxiety that weighed heavily on her heart. Or was that the Ativan working it's magic? At least she could breathe again without constantly forced yawns and that was all that mattered to her.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him reach out to turn his music down a couple notches, her instincts telling her that he was finally going to break the tension between them and say something. Great. Here it comes.
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"So, have you changed your mind about coming to my gig tonight?"
She sighed softly and looked over at him, blinking in astonishment when she glanced down at his ensemble, having overlooked the fact that he was still wearing his lab coat and had his stethoscope still draped over his shoulders. Was he seriously going to take her to the pharmacy still dressed like that? People were going to think he actually worked there.
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